Re-directing

I am certainly committing some violation of “netiquette” by doing this, but I would very much like to direct your attention to my other blog, “Sense of Misplaced.” That is a more general nature (and human nature) blog that is actually more challenging and enjoyable for me to write than this one.

The title stems from my disdain for the romantic obsession with “sense of place” that so many of today’s nature writers seem to embrace. My aim is to make people confront their biases, expose the unintended consequences of their best intentions, and encourage them to celebrate their own inner animal. “Get out of your comfort zone” might be the bottom line.

I have been warned that writing just one blog is hard work, and I would tend to agree, but the last thing I want is to be stereotyped as a “bug guy.” I have feelings, too (and thoughts, and ideas, even).

I’ll make you a deal. Should “Sense of Misplaced” fall flat on its face, I’ll devote full attention to this blog alone. Go take a look, though, and I think you will agree that both have merit. Thank you for indulging me. We now return you to your regularly scheduled bug extravaganza.

Let Sleeping Bees Lie

One of the many fascinating aspects of the lives of solitary bees is that males will often come together, right now, over me…No, wait, that can’t be right. That would be the Beatles. Male solitary bees, however, frequently gather in “sleeping aggregations” where they spend the night, or rest during inclement weather.

Over the last few weeks I have been fortunate enough to witness a few of these low-key bachelor parties here in Tucson, Arizona. My walk home from work in the evening would reveal longhorned bees of the tribe Eucerini (family Apidae) bedding down atop desert marigolds. There were generally at least two per flower, sometimes several, and occasionally one lone maverick. Only male longhorned bees have the long antennae that give this tribe its common name. Females have much shorter feelers.

You would think that being so exposed, the stingless males would be highly vulnerable to nocturnal predators, but this does not appear to be the case. Indeed, I often found them just beginning to stir the next morning.

A different kind of perch, and sleeping posture, is adopted by male cuckoo bees, Xeromelecta californica. Here, three individuals are clinging to twigs on a mesquite sapling. They are gripping the plant with only their jaws. That cannot be comfortable. I originally noticed only one member of this trio, in restless flight, seeking a better “bunk” to land on. They were also taking after the geriatric set, retiring early, at about four in the afternoon. One ultimately re-settled on the tip of a thorn.

These social gatherings are very modest in size. I am hoping to capture images of much more spectacular events later in the year. Stay tuned for entries on sleeping wasps as well. For more on this and other odd bee-haviors, check out the Urban Bee Gardens website.

My Favorite Typos

My “day job” was as a keywording specialist for an internet company that sells images online, and one of the duties was to correct the errors of my predecessors. Additionally, I volunteer to identify “mystery bugs” at AllExperts.com. Both of these activities have occasionally generated some hilarious typographical errors.

Our company once outsourced some keywording to workers outside the U.S. This made for some intriguing interpretations of spelling. Among my favorites: the “Ladder Day Saints.” Gee, talk about being high and mighty. “Pungent Sound, Washington.” Well, there goes the travel and tourism industry. “Neckless.” Well, it is pretty hard to wear a necklace if you have no neck, don’t you think?! “Glasswear.” Be careful, dear, you don’t want to fall down in that garment…and you might want to put on some underwear.

Over on AllExperts, too many people who ask me questions disregard spelling and punctuation entirely. A few, however, go to great lengths to explain their situation, and to describe the insect or spider that is plaguing them. I always ask that they please include the location where the creature was found, but in one case I couldn’t find “Californai” on the map.

Far and away my most favorite error, bless this woman’s heart, had to do with an infestation of something in her attic. I know that she meant to write “fecal” matter as one of the clues to her pest problem, but in what has to be one of the most unfortunate typos ever, it came out “fetal” matter. I laughed so hard I was almost in the fetal position. Once I regained my composure I told her that she needed to contact the local authorities to evict the underground abortion clinic in her attic. Oh, my. Keep those cards and letters coming, folks.

As Seen on TV

Did you ever see the television show Verminators, which aired in the U.S. on the Discovery Channel, Monday nights at ten PM (just in time to give you the heebie-jeebies before bedtime)? Apparently, it has since been cancelled, but it chronicled the adventures of a real-life pest control company in Los Angeles, California.

Some episodes left me wondering which is more disgusting, the pests themselves, or the living habits of the clientele (with apologies to Jeff Foxworthy, you might be a redneck if the roaches in the pantry hand you a shopping list).

While the program did provide some insight into what to expect if you enlist professional help in your battle against pests, it did not always inspire confidence. In one episode I viewed, a novice technician nearly blew an apartment to kingdom come when he failed to notice a lit burner on the stove before he began spraying. Tsk, tsk. That would usually be grounds for dismissal, but the company owner was more forgiving after issuing a strong reprimand.

What do you think of this program? If you were able to stomach an installment or two, share your own review of Verminators here.